Kit Carson had shot one, and was continuing the chase in the midst of another herd, when his horse fell headlong, but sprang up and joined the flying band.

Though considerably hurt, he had the good fortune to break no bones.

Maxwell, who was mounted on a fleet hunter, captured the runaway after a hard chase.

He was on the point of shooting him, to avoid the loss of his bridle, a handsomely mounted Spanish one, when he found that his horse was able to come up with him.
The next day was the first of July.
As our adventurers were riding joyfully along, over a beautiful prairie country, on the right side of the river, a magnificent herd of buffalo came up from the water over the bank, not less then seven or eight hundred in number, and commenced slowly crossing the plain, grazing as they went.
The prairie was here about three miles broad.

This gave the hunters a fine opportunity to charge upon them before they could escape among the distant hills.